


Catullus 51

by NotManTheLessButNatureMore



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Drabble, the slow burn is scorching with these two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-17 02:06:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16507280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotManTheLessButNatureMore/pseuds/NotManTheLessButNatureMore
Summary: "Godlike the man who sits at her side, who watches and catches that laughter which (softly) tears me to tatters; nothing is left of me, each time I see her, ... tongue numbed; arms, legs melting, on fire." Catullus 51 (Whigham)A simple moment at the end of the day that could contain a multitude, if only Strike knew how to follow his heart.(Just a short little drabble that I wrote late last night instead of sleeping.)





	Catullus 51

**Author's Note:**

> The slow burn is scorching with these two and as we all know, Strike/Robin endgame is probably gonna be a loooooooooong game. So I thought I'd add to it :) Hope you enjoy it! (Now I should probably go and finish the epilogue (that's begging to be a story itself, why do I do this?!) to 'A Man of Two Souls'.

“What’s that?”

 

“Clarinets.”

 

Strike rolled his eyes and turned to look at Robin. He had just returned from tailing a wealthy wife and she was standing by the office door wrapping her scarf around her throat and pulling on her jacket. They had been two ships passing in the night lately, or in the evening anyway. A six pack of Doom Bar tied with a neat red bow was sitting on his desk.

 

“I thought we weren’t doing presents.” Strike had nervously broached the subject of Christmas presents a few days ago. Robin was spending hers in Masham and he was spending Christmas eve with Nick and Ilsa and Christmas day with Lucy, mostly because Jack had begged him to come and help him set up the lego army base he was hoping for, much to Lucy’s chagrin. She had again tried to convince Jack of the merits of the lego football stadium as they all sat having lunch last weekend but Jack had his heart set on the army base. Instead of dread Strike felt a vague satisfaction at the idea of playing with Jack and his new toys while an unwanted Greg looked on.

 

“We’re not.”

 

“Then what’s-“

 

“It was on special in Sainsburys when I went out for milk. And you looked like you could do with some cheering up when I saw you this morning.”

 

“You saw me this morning?”

 

“Well, I saw a grizzly bear lighting a cigarette like it was an annoying rubik’s cube the minute he came out of the tube station.”

 

Strike tried to hide a smile, turning it into a cheeky looking smirk instead.

 

“Running surveillance on your boss now?”

 

Robin almost replied with ‘ _well how else would I know what’s going on inside his head’_ , but she glanced at the door instead.

 

“I should-“

 

“-yeah.”

 

They stood like that for a moment, Robin’s hand grasping the door handle and Strike’s lips slightly parted, on the verge of something more. He was acutely aware lately of all the moments that almost were. The seconds of silence that were charged instead of comfortable. The second glances, the held breath, the hidden smiles and the small frowns. Time seemed to have sped up lately, the year had slid into summer and fallen into winter before Strike had realised it. Robin’s divorce had been finalised, she’d celebrated it with a drink in the pub with Ilsa and Vanessa, while Nick had thrown Strike contemplative glances as they watched the footie in his cramped attic flat.

 

All of the strings that held their lives apart from each other, the tightropes that signalled the different boundaries to be maintained seemed to have disappeared so quickly, Strike thought. As the trees became bare and the tendrils of frost clung to his window in the morning Strike became aware of the insecurity of time and the diminishing chances it presented. One of the things he had come to realise when he was younger was that moments were always lost. No matter how many pictures were taken, or how many considered second glances were given time still moved on and the treasured moment died. Even the most vivid memory was fuzzy around the edges. His uncle Ted’s boat that was lost in a storm one year varies in colour when he thinks of it. He can’t be sure of the length of his mother’s hair when he last saw her. Robin’s shirt that first day, was it dark or bright?

 

“Same time tomorrow then.” The door was open and Robin was part way out.

 

“Tomorrow?” Strike questioned.

 

“Yeah, well you’re out all day tailing Mrs Clingy, right? And I’ve got that meeting with Wardle.” Robin smiled and Strike felt another one of those moments floating away from him.

 

“Yeah. Right.”

 

His thoughts drifted back to the six pack of Doom Bar.

 

“Do you want one?”

 

“One?”

 

“A drink, I… six pints won’t do my diet any good.”

 

Another moment. Robin’s face brightened, her mouth opened and then quickly the words that seemed ready to escape faltered. Strike felt his own hopeful smile slip, embarrassment caused his head to dip and a hand came to rest on the back of his neck.

 

“I’m-“

 

“-it’s.”

 

They both laughed quietly.

 

“Thanks Robin.” Strike walked towards the kitchenette.

 

“See you tomorrow Cormoran.” Robin disappeared behind the frosted glass and down the stairs.

 

_“Godlike the man who sits at her side, who watches and catches that laughter which (softly) tears me to tatters; nothing is left of me, each time I see her, ... tongue numbed; arms, legs melting, on fire”_ Strike pulled the teabags out of the press.

 

_“Her ease is your sloth, Catullus you itch & roll in her ease: former kings and cities lost in the valley of her arm.”_He took the fresh milk from the fridge.

 

_“Nothing is left of me, each time I see her…”_ Strike waited for the kettle to boil.


End file.
